Confessions of a Serial Alibi (14 page)

The Prosecution

As far as Thiru Vignarajah goes, I don’t know what to make of him personally. Like I said earlier, my lawyer Gary Proctor ran into Vignarajah in downtown Baltimore (while working) and extended a personal invitation for Thiru to speak with me before the post-conviction hearing. Gary let Vignarajah know that I was not taking sides with either the prosecution or defense teams and that I would be more than willing to participate any questioning. As far as my lawyer has told me, Vignarajah (unlike Justin Brown) never called to request my time. With that being said if I were to go by how Vignarajah treated me before the trial, I’d say my opinion is he is a very nice and polite man. If I were to go by how he treated me during my cross-examination, I’d say my opinion is he is annoying, manipulative and backhanded. If I were to go by the ways in which he has talked about me since the hearing, I’d say my opinion is that he is an asshole. Again, I get it. He has a job to do and he does it well. I just wonder how he can be so inconsiderate and cold-hearted about it. It’s almost like he has a built-in treachery switch. I probably should have gotten a clue the Saturday before the post-conviction hearing when my friend Stacie called me to tell me about some of Vignarajah’s antics.

The night I arrived in Baltimore for the hearing, Stacie called me very upset because a plain-clothes police officer showed up at her house after 10 PM that night. According to Stacie, she was home alone when the man banged on her front door both scaring her and waking up her three young children. Upon cracking the door open, the strange man informed her that his name was Mark Veney and he was a homicide detective from the Baltimore City Police Department. Stacie said that instantly her heart dropped as she immediately thought someone had been murdered (but who!?). The officer then informed her that he was sent by the Deputy Attorney General Thiru Vignarajah, and that he had questions surrounding the death of a young lady named Hae Min Lee. After stumbling to pronounce Hae and Adnan’s names, he continued to say that he was aware that Stacie had attended Woodlawn during the time of Hae’s murder and that the nature of his visit surrounded information that Stacie might have from 1999. The detective then stated the fact that Syed’s lawyer had noted her name on his witness list. At that point Stacie knew what the detective was talking about, and she became rightfully irritated and angry with both the detective and Vignarajah.

Previous to all of this I had spoken to Stacie about the hearing and whether she would agree to be on the witness stand (she agreed). Much like Rabia Chaudry, Stacie was never called upon in court but the state still had to have her on the witness list in case they needed her testimony. Nonetheless, Stacie told me the detective continued to seek answers from her even though he didn’t seem to have a strong grasp on his assignment directives. As her children cried in the background, Stacie said she expressed to the detective that she was insulted by the time of night that he had chosen to visit her. She said he apologized and then admitted that he was merely “doing the foot work” and that he was not very knowledgeable about the purpose of the line of questioning. Stacie told me she refused him entry into her home, so he then slid his hand through the opening in her screen door. He handed her a cell phone, which placed her on the line with Vignarajah.

According to Stacie, Vignarajah then had the audacity to attempt to continue following through with his questioning, as if what he had just facilitated wasn’t rude, intimidating or—at best—just plain tacky. God forbid Vignarajah get his own ass out of bed to interview witnesses after ten o’clock at night, but I digress. So anyway, naturally by this time, Stacie said that her young children were very upset and that she was both freaked out and highly irritated. As such, she immediately told Vignarajah that if he wanted to speak to her then he could do so at a respectable time of day and not at almost 11 PM at night (Go, Stacie! Right?!) According to Stacie, she then got some push back from Vignarajah; he wanted to know if she and I talked about the upcoming hearing. He wanted to know if she or anyone else had any specific nicknames (that he wouldn’t mention) back in high school. Stacie admits that she did answer one or two of his questions but ultimately stuck to her guns about speaking to her at a decent time. They then made arrangements to speak the next day.

Stacie claims the next day Vignarajah came back with the homicide detective in tow. Right off the bat, Stacie said she scolded Vignarajah for contacting her after ten o’clock at night. He rebutted that it was before 9:30 and she corrected him by proclaiming that it was indeed definitely after ten o’clock at night when they spoke on the phone. She also told Vignarajah that the previous night’s visit really made her uncomfortable so as a precaution, she wanted her children’s grandmother to sit in on the conversation. Vignarajah apologized, agreed to Stacie’s guest and proceeded to record her questioning. According to Stacie, Vignarajah asked if she remembered me telling her about my letters to Adnan in 1999. Stacie admitted that she doesn’t have the best memory and indeed didn’t remember much about the time after Adnan’s arrest. “Asia has the best memory out of all my friends,” she said. In addition, she told him that she remembered being saddened and shocked by the turn of events. Stacie then admitted to purposely trying not to remember details of that time, specifically because she was a friend to both Hae and Adnan and those thoughts are all together very troubling to her. Stacie said it was at this time that Vignarajah doubled down on the question and again Stacie told him the memories she did recall but reiterated that she didn’t remember much. Then Vignarajah asked Stacie if she and I saw each other a lot during class back in high school. Stacie said she replied, “No.” She also told him that she was in Woodlawn’s magnet program and I was not, therefore we did not have classes together. She told him that we’ve been best friends since junior high and that in high school the bulk of our interaction was afterschool during sports and social activities. Stacie told me that she felt as if Vignarajah had hinted at wanting to know if she knew where I was staying while I was in town for the hearing (even though he already knew that I could be reached for questioning through my attorney). She then said that Vignarajah apologized to her for the last-minute questioning but stated that Adnan’s defense team dragged their feet on providing him with her information and that it was difficult to locate her. Ultimately, she was “last on the list.”

Finally, Stacie said that he asked if she has had any contact with Adnan’s legal team. All in all, Stacie estimated the visit lasted about twenty minutes and Vignarajah was very intimidating. In her opinion, it seemed as if Vignarajah was trying to make me the enemy because of the possibility that the State got Adnan’s conviction wrong back in 2000. She also admitted to me that the interview was not pleasant and not something she ever wants to do again.

In actuality the first time that I met Vignarajah was the first day of my testimony. My husband and I were waiting outside the courtroom with my attorney when Vignarajah and his entourage arrived. As I stared at the three attorneys approaching, Gary informed me that one of them (pointing to Vignarajah) was the prosecutor. As Vignarajah got closer I stood up, walked towards him, eagerly shook his hand and introduced myself. As expected he was extremely nice to me. He smiled and said how much of a pleasure it was to meet me. Little did I know at the time, he was not always going to be so nice. I had forgotten what my friend had told me about him smiling in your face while stabbing you in the back. Unbeknownst to me, within next forty-eight hours, that same man would refer to me as a liar and co-conspirator (to my face). In any regard, like I said, I had no idea at that time what he had in store for me and I had forgotten the warning I had been given. I simply smiled back and he walked away. The thing that I remember being most comical about that interaction was not Thiru himself, but the female African-American associate that accompanied him into court. As Vignarajah walked away she said something to the effect of, “Oh my God, I love your lipstick. Where did you get it?” I responded by telling her that I had received it from my friend back home but that it was from Stila Cosmetics and that it could be purchased at Sephora. She smiled and told me that she had just been there and had recently purchased some Stila products but was not familiar with the red color that I was wearing. I tried to tell her the name of the color (Beso) but it was at that instant that Vignarajah reappeared from beyond the courtroom doors. He sternly beckoned for her attention and presence. After the three attorneys were all safely inside the courtroom, Gary, my husband and myself all had a good chuckle about the interaction had just transpired.

“I hope you didn’t get her in trouble,” my husband snickered.

“Oops!” I giggled.

Before I knew it the first day of the post-conviction hearing was upon me. As you can imagine, I didn’t sleep well the night before and yet somehow I woke up pumped and ready to go. As I got prepared to leave I strangely started to think about television. I started to feel like I was in Hollywood cinema when one of the characters is awaiting the electric chair. I was confident that I was doing the right thing and told myself that the truth would prevail. However, the uncertainty of what would happen after I sat in the witness chair felt a lot like
The Green Mile.
After we arrived downtown and found parking, we met my attorney at a local Starbucks. Gary was dressed to the nines as usual: a fresh crisp suit with a coordinating Kangol hat to boot. My husband was dressed in his finest Jos. A. Bank solid black suit and black tie; myself in a two-piece zigzag-patterned Calvin Klein dress suit, red lips and non-matching multicolored umbrella that I had snagged from my grandmother the day before.

After purchasing a few breakfast treats we left and proceeded to walk to the courthouse. I remember that I had to be extra careful where I stepped. It was raining and the downtown sidewalks in Baltimore are especially treacherous in certain spots.
That’s all I need, to stumble and bust my ass on camera,
I thought. To our relief when we approached the courthouse there were no cameramen in sight that first day. We stood in line, had our belongings searched and jumped on the elevator to go upstairs. Once we got up there, I began to feel nervous. There were plenty of people walking around and I couldn’t tell who, if any, knew who I was.

As I got closer to the courtroom I noticed how beautiful the courthouse interior architecture actually was. There was white marble everywhere and wooden trim that had to have been very old and yet very well-preserved. As we walked down the hall towards the courtroom, I noticed signs everywhere. “No cell phones” said one. “No photography or audio recording devices” and so on. This of course pleased me because I didn’t have to worry about people snapping photos of me, or so I thought. In any case, at one point I can remember seeing Rabia Chaudry talking to two other people. I immediately knew it was her because she looked just like I’d remembered her. It’s weird and I don’t know why I felt drawn to go speak to her, but I did not. I didn’t know what the rules were for this kind of thing and I didn’t think it would be appropriate. Fortunately for me, that was a good call because given the soon-to-be-placed sequestration, that would have not been a good thing for us to do. So instead, we caught eyes and smiled and went our separate ways.

Soon after, my husband and I plopped our butts on the wooden bench directly outside the right-hand-side courtroom door (where my poor husband would spend the next two days) and began the drudging task of waiting to be called. As we sat there many people passed us by. Many of which looked at us, hardly any of which spoke to us. Entirely all of which I didn’t know and then I saw Sarah Koenig approach. When I saw Sarah she was in mid-conversation with another person so I didn’t immediately get up from my seat. As I sat and watched I couldn’t help but think that she looked exactly how I’d imagined her to look. That is, like every Internet photo I’ve ever seen of her. I believe she was dressed in a t-shirt and dark pants. Her hair, although beautifully wavy, wasn’t especially done up and her face, although equally attractive, had little to no makeup at all. In that moment I found myself envying her because she looked so comfortable, where as I was pregnant, in a monkey suit and heels. As the person she had been talking to began to walk away, I stood up and yelled her name. She turned her gaze towards me, smiled and began to walk in my direction. I could tell that she had no idea who the hell I was. As a consequence, I was smiling and laughed as I shook her hand.

“Hi, it’s Asia,” I said.

“Oh!” she said. “Nice to officially meet you!”

“Finally!” I said. I then introduced my husband and Gary into the conversation. We chit-chatted about the fortuitous circumstances that had brought us both to court that day and with that she headed back into the courtroom. As my husband and I went back to sitting, he admitted that he had no idea who she was until I introduced him. I laughed and questioned how on earth it was that he didn’t have a clue after all this time.

In any case, a significant amount of time went by in which my husband and I made friends with the sheriffs posted in front of the courtroom. Because there was no phone usage allowed we were “forced to actually talk to one another” as one of the sheriffs joked. Not being allowed into the courtroom was pretty agonizing and proved to be a complete waste of half a day. Before too long everyone began to reemerge from the courtroom. Unbeknownst to us, the judge had just called for a lunch recess and everyone was free to leave for a bit. Gary poked his head out of the courtroom and suggested that we meet him at the local café where we had met him a couple of days before. We agreed and continued on with the task of leaving the courthouse. Feeling famous is not something that feels great to me. That day was no exception.

As we walked the streets of downtown Baltimore I can remember being grateful for the rain. Ever since we arrived I was paranoid about public exposure and therefore I confided in the little shelter that my umbrella provided. Everywhere we went I feared that people would recognize me, stare or approach me. I know it was probably just my wild imagination, but that day it felt as if everyone was staring at me. Lunchtime was no exception. We made our way into the local café and purchased sandwiches and soup. Soon after, Gary appeared and sat along with us. Due to the sequestration Gary was unable to tell me about any of the earlier day’s testimonies, so instead we focused on more important matters like how I was feeling and what I thought about the other events of the day so far. Gary assured me that I would do fine in court and before you knew it we were once again walking in the rain back to the courthouse.